Craig takes his work boots off by the door. His twitch streamer flatmate can be heard being animated, his musician flatmate creating music in the other room. He slips off his wet weather gear and hangs it on the coat rack that greets all visitors as they enter the house. He slugs his body forth into his fast food rubbish ridden bedroom and lays flat on his bed. Hands massaging temples. He has yet to shower, but wallows in his own muck a while further. Then, grabs his 3 week unwashed towel off his dresser, compiles his change of clothes and heads to the shower. He stands still under the warm massaging nozzle, he enjoys the water rushing and comforting his back. He brings his face under the rays of water and shuts his eyes tightly, opens his mouth and hopes to drown. Spits the scorching water out with anguish, then turns off the tap. He didn’t buy soap. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror, examining bruised, scratched, rodent like body. All hunched and bent from years of abuse and neglect. He flexed for a moment in front of the mirror, hoping for a peek of muscle, but finds little in progress. His gut protruding. He puts on his jocks, a size too big. Pulls over his black t shirt, a size too small. Then pulls up his stained sweatpants, he brought the wrong pair with him. He opens the medicine cabinet, twists with all his might of the last little smitch of toothpaste he has left. Presses the top and drags it along his frayed toothbrush. Brushing sparely and spitting out no less than spit and blood.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
He pops a pill out of his tray, takes it without water. He shuts his medicine cabinet and takes a ghastly look at the man he’s become.
He scrummages below the bathroom sink, pulls out the false floor, and removes a plastic bag containing two items. A makeup bag, and an old burgundy dress.
He puts on foundation and then applies his contour, or whatever he does I don’t know makeup. He finishes the last touchups, until he is satisfied with the finished result. He then takes off his shirt, removes his filthy sweatpants. Puts on his dress and feels at peace. Looking beyond the void that is himself and unto the love for which he feels.